Rabbi Mendy's Blog

 "Religious" the word is taboo in some circles and, at the very least, intimidating to most people. It tends to conjure up images of "holier than thou" people who spend their days wrapped in prayer and piety while looking down on the rest of the "heathen" society. How, then, should we consider this time on introspection just before Rosh Hashanah, our New Year? What should we aspire to if being "religious" seems entirely out of reach and frankly less than desirable? 

The answer lies in this week's Torah portion Ki Tavo. There, we learn about the Mitzvah Bikurim; a farmer working in the field would bring their first fruits to the Temple in appreciation for G-d's blessing and offer them as a gift to the Kohen. This Mitzvah was a pivotal moment in the life of a Biblical Jew, and yet the Mitzvah centered around their work in the field/farm/orchard. It was there the Torah says they felt G-d's blessing more than anywhere else; for that reason, these fruits symbolized their gratitude for G-d's presence in their lives. The lesson is a fundamental truth of Jewish life; being religious is less about spending all day in a synagogue and more about feeling G-d's presence throughout your life, especially when you are immersed in this material physical world, such as a farmer working the land. 

This same principle can be seen in the parable used to highlight the importance of our current Hebrew month, Elul, which proceeds Rosh Hashanah. The first Chabad Rebbe explained this particular time of the year with the following allegory: Imagine a King who lives in a palace and usually can only be seen by a small group of elite citizens or after a lengthy approval process. However, this month before the New Year, the king leaves his palace and comes out to meet the farmers in the field, joyfully greeting each one. This fantastic example helps us understand that G-d is more present and accessible this month than the rest of the year and can be found in the field, the most physical elements of our world. 

Being something different from who you are is a terrifying idea; no wonder people are so terrified of becoming "religious." But the truth is G-d's coming out to greet you as you are; all you need to do is welcome Hashem's presence in your life. As we prepare to welcome a new year, let's consider what a new version of ourselves might look like. Don't get hung up on labels, "religious" or any other. Instead, focus on allowing Hashem's presence in your life, and as you begin to live with that divine energy, you will naturally start to ask the question, what does G-d want me to do in this moment? When you recognize Hashem loves you and wants to connect with you, you'll become the true definition of "religious," a conduit of divine light illuminating our world. 

Mission: Use this special moment in time to welcome G-d into your life; Hashem is more accessible now and will gladly meet you exactly where and as you are. 

 The body has a mind of its own. It wants what it wants, and its strong will to fulfill its desires can be overwhelming at times. How do we manage to listen to the soul, find the discipline necessary to curb the body's appetite, and resist giving into each of its cravings? How do we elevate our lives above the materialistic goal of self-gratification and self-preservation? 

The answer lies in this week's Torah portion, Ki Teiztei. There, we learn the directive, "Do not see your fellow's donkey or his ox fallen on the road and ignore it. Help him lift it up." Now, this Mitzvah might seem familiar since a different iteration was introduced to us in the book of Exodus. That one was different since it related to helping your enemy, but this week's seems redundant since if you have to help your enemy's donkey, you should definitely assist your fellow. 

The truth is that your fellow's donkey might not just be another person's animal trotting down the road; it might be the animal inside of you. Each of us grapples with our animalistic tendencies; it's not an aberration G-d created us this way. The challenge is to reframe our perspective and stop seeing our animal as an enemy that needs to be destroyed but rather as a fellow who needs to be guided towards a better path. When we stop trying to slay our animal and instead seek to work with it, it becomes more amenable to serving a power greater than itself. 

Let's stop living with guilt and shame over our cravings and desires and invite our animal soul to the table. Let's recognize that these passions, when properly refocused, can become an amazing source of energy and enthusiasm in the service of G-d and humanity. Each of us is a beautiful creation in the divine image, both our body and our soul. When we bring the two together, they become an unstoppable team and the ultimate force for good. 

Mission: Acknowledge your animalistic desires and their hold on you. Begin talking to your animal in a kind way, and he/she will become more receptive. Then, together, you can really grow onward and upward.